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Youth250 Members in Washington Post Op-Ed for July 4th!

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Youth250 Members in Washington Post Op-Ed for July 4th!

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Opinion | We’re young and love America. Our peers should be patriotic, too.

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Young Americans share why they’re optimistic about the future of the U.S.

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Youth250 Writing Club: The History You Didn’t Know About the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade

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Youth250 Writing Club: The History You Didn’t Know About the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade

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by Jewel Navia, 21

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Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade with Uncle Sam balloon in the 1940s. (Courtesy of Macy's)

Every Thanksgiving, my family and I tune in to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on NBC. My favorite parts of the parade are always the character balloons, the musical performances from the SpongeBob Musical to My Fair Lady, and Santa Claus arriving at the end to mark the beginning of the Winter Holidays. It is quite a thrill to watch.

As we celebrate Thanksgiving and the parade's 100th anniversary next year, it's time to reflect on how this parade began and what it means for us as a country.The parade started in the mid-1920s,thanks to the employees at Macy's Department Store. The employees wanted to showcase Macy's big store in Herald Square - which had recently opened - boost sales for the holiday season, and give thanks. In the mid-1920s, many of the employees at Macy's were first generation European immigrants, and the parade was a way to celebrate the holiday season that was rooted in the traditions of their native countries.

In the leadup to the first parade, Macy's began advertising as "a surprise New York will never forget." On November 27, 1924, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade began with 10,000 New Yorkers showing up to watch Macy's employees, festive floats, and animals from the Central Park Zoo march down two blocks. It concluded with Santa Claus ascending to the top of the marquee above the Macy's 34th Street entrance where he was crowned "King of the Kiddies." Afterwards, a trumpet blared out, showcasing the unveiling of Macy's window displays to the crowd in attendance. The parade was so well received that the day after the parade, Macy's announced the parade was going to become an annual event.

Over time, the parade has evolved to become the one that we know and love today. In 1927, the first balloon showed up at the parade to replace the animals that had frightened some children. The first balloon was Felix the Cat, a cartoon character whose popularity would later be eclipsed by Mickey Mouse. The following year, the giant balloons were filled with helium and released into the air. If someone was lucky enough to find a balloon, they could return it and earn a reward. This tradition continued until 1932 when it was discontinued due to environmental and safety concerns.

The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade continued to grow even during the Great Depression.In 1933, an estimated one million spectators lined the streets to watch the parade. Amidst the uncertainty and despair, spectators could revel in the sight of the floats, new balloon characters such as Mickey Mouse and Superman, and even listen in as the parade was broadcasted on several radio stations in New York.

The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade was suspended from 1942 to 1944 as America entered World War II. Materials like rubber and helium were in high demand to aid the war effort. In the postwar years the parade became not just a New York phenomenon, but an American one. In 1947, the holiday classic Miracle on 34th Street was released and featured the iconic Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The following year saw the event have its first broadcast on national TV, inspiring celebrities to start performing in the parade.

Since then, the parade has only continued to grow. Last year's parade was the largest in its history, with 5,000 volunteers, 32 balloons, 22 floats, 700 clowns, eleven marching bands, and 10 performance groups.

People enjoying the 2023 Thanksgiving Day Parade. (Eugene Gologursky / Getty Images for Macy's, Inc.)

The continued growth and the longevity of the parade taught me two things. First, that the parade is one of the few third spaces that has remained active for all these years. As a young person, I've noticed many third spaces have vanished from public life, increasing issues like loneliness. The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is an antidote to that. Whether you're watching the parade at home with family and friends or in person in Manhattan, it helps foster connection and community across the country.

Second, this parade is more than just a mere spectacle and a beloved tradition. The parade has fostered unity and a sense of national spirit among those who watch it. From the Great Depression to our polarized times today, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade has helped Americans of all stripes come together and revel in something to enjoy and take pride in. It's because of this that the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade will always be that great miracle that happened on 34th Street.
Jewel Navia is a 24-year-old in Los Angeles, CA.

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The History You Didn't Know About the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

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The History You Didn't Know About the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade From Mickey Mouse to WWII by Jewel Navia, 24| Youth250 Content Corps Every Thanksgiving, my family and I tune in to the ...

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Irving Archives and Museum, West Irving Boulevard, Irving, TX

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Substack: Stop Treating Teens Like Passive Visitors!

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Substack: Stop Treating Teens Like Passive Visitors!

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Stop Treating Teens Like Passive Visitors

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Why radical welcome, co-creation, and youth power are the real work of the 250th.

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National Portrait Gallery, Washington, DC

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Hundreds of teens submitted their artworks to the National Portrait Gallery’s Teen Portrait Competition

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Hundreds of teens submitted their artworks to the National Portrait Gallery’s Teen Portrait Competition

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Explore the works: https://www.instagram.com/p/DSFghQmDsyq/?img_index=6&igsh=dnN4YTU3MngyOHNx

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History Class Ought to Take a Lesson From TikTok

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History Class Ought to Take a Lesson From TikTok

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by Sarah Behjet

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"First came the Battles of Lexington and Concord, and you can't forget about Bunker Hill..."
My middle school self was trapped in yet another history lecture, this one about a timeline of the American Revolution's battles. Instead of feigning engagement in class, I glanced outside at the swaying pine trees and red cardinals chirping. As the history lesson continued, I doodled on the corner of my college-ruled notebook in an attempt to make time go faster.

My experience is hardly an outlier. A 2023 study reveals that only 28% of middle school students are interested in learning more about history. There's hardly anything entrancing about chronology, made worse by the need to memorize battle names without learning the significance attached to each one.

Then, something happened that changed my view. I was scrolling away on Instagram, past clothing ads and my friends' summer photos, when the account @historycoolkids caught my eye with a post about an old prediction for what phones could be and do. I clicked to learn more, and the post taught me that a 1953 San Francisco businessman prophesied the telephone's future uses, correctly speculating that it could be handheld and translate between languages. I was hooked. Was there more out there that might connect to my world today? Or stories that could surprise me? I spent hours going down rabbit holes on Wikipedia, Instagram, and TikTok discovering new topics. These questions, accompanied by photos and artifacts, fueled more and more searches.

Social media's purpose took on a new meaning after my endless searches. It enabled me to do so much more than just doomscroll; it opened my eyes to topics that made history personal, and critically, surprising. A world sans rote memorization and outdated textbooks existed, and I'd just found it. History wasn't a set of facts, or a class with all the answers - it was the tool to discover more questions and unknown stories.

Broadening my horizons about the past, even on a five-inch screen, made me realize how static historical information in the classroom is. I knew exactly what to expect going in to my U.S. history class: the same "classic" stories we're usually taught about the wars, presidents and major events. It's like watching a movie you've seen before; you might get more of the details this time, but the element of surprise is nonexistent.

Yet, as an American with Assyrian and Armenian roots, I happened to know there was more to history, because my ancestors lived it. In class, I only learned about the economic and governmental intricacies of the Ottoman Empire - never about the 1915 Armenian, Assyrian, and Greek genocides perpetrated by the same empire. I only heard about the "extinct" Assyrians of Mesopotamia - never that Assyrians still exist worldwide. It's been well argued that omitting minority perspectives from world and American history is a fast track to making students feel left out. But what people don't realize is it's also a fast track to boredom. Tiktok, with all of its flaws, fuels an addictive way to search and find new, unexpected information. History teachers could take a lesson from this.

I would be lying if I said that my out-of-school history escapades fully quelled the monotony of history class. However, they add layers to what I learn in school, making textbook information something of an unlocked treasure chest. If it's unrealistic for schools to ditch pre-existing history curriculum, we can at least encourage students to use out-of-school resources- yes, even TikTok, Youtube and Instagram - to supplement classroom instruction.

I'm still gazing outside classroom windows and mindlessly doodling in notebooks, hoping for something interesting to happen. But with new tools under my belt, I know that when I learn about the Statue of Liberty, I can go look up a more interesting question: Does the Liberty Bell actually have a spelling mistake in its inscription? In making inquiries beyond the history class curriculum, every "Hmm..." turns into a "No way!", adding excitement to the learning journey.
Sarah Behjet is a 16-year-old junior at Northwest Catholic High School in Farmington, CT.

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History Class Ought to Take a Lesson From TikTok

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History Class Ought to Take a Lesson From TikTok Don't overlook the element of surprise to fuel learning by Sarah Behjet, 16 | Youth250 Content Corps "First came the Battles of Lexington and ...

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Youth250's Meg Schanes at the New Jersey League of Municipalities

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Youth250's Meg Schanes at the New Jersey League of Municipalities

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Lauren Sermersheim and Halle Gensler representing Youth250 at the Bonner Congress

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Lauren Sermersheim and Halle Gensler representing Youth250 at the Bonner Congress

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Shayna Canty and KaRa Lyn Thrasher representing Youth250 at the Participatory Budgeting Project Conference

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Shayna Canty and KaRa Lyn Thrasher representing Youth250 at the Participatory Budgeting Project Conference

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Youth250 Bureau Members advising the National Archives Foundation in DC

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Youth250 Bureau Members advising the National Archives Foundation in DC

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I hope to make my mark in the Youth250 Content Corps. I hope to create content that helps uplift the voices of our generation as we head towards this critical moment in American history in which we commemorate the 250th birthday of our republic and create a vision for the future of our country that can be uplifting for all.

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Next Year, America Turns 250. These Gen Zers Want to Make It a Turning Point

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“It’s time to rekindle the revolutionary spirit of urgency and invention. Gen Z is ready to lead our country into the future.”

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Gen Z Has Entered the Chat: What We Want from Museums

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Gen Z Has Entered the Chat: What We Want from Museums

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Gen Z Has Entered the Chat: What We Want from Museums

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One hundred members of the Youth250 Bureau offer free advice to museums seeking to reach young adults. When it comes to engaging Gen Z in museums, I know it’s not always easy. My generation spends …

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The Kids Are All Right: Gen Z, Civics, and Technology

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The Kids Are All Right: Gen Z, Civics, and Technology

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Andy Reischling
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The Kids Are All Right: Gen Z, Civics, and Technology

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Sep 11, 2025 • An interview with Arpan Somani and Alex Edgar about how to engage young people to build a better future

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Youth Voice at Smithsonian Summit on Education

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Youth Voice at Smithsonian Summit on Education

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Live Youth Consultation at AASLH Conference

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Live Youth Consultation at AASLH Conference

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HistoryMiami Museum, West Flagler Street, Miami, FL

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Gen Z is Forcing Us to Rethink the American Dream

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Gen Z is Forcing Us to Rethink the American Dream

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Gen Z is Forcing Us to Rethink the American Dream

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As the American Dream becomes less attainable, Gen Z is hyper-aware of their economic conditions, writes Alice Lassman.

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In IEEE, we talk about: norms+norm shifts, technology+AI, and safety+sexual safety.

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by Carina Laventure, Youth250 Bureau

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"It takes a village," as we like to say. We use it when we are grieving a tragedy, fighting injustice, or raising children. However, we fall short when it comes to truly being a part of that village: to perform the unpleasant, unglamorous work of community. Everyone wants solidarity, but no one wants to sacrifice. Everyone wants a village, but no one wants to be a better villager.

This is not a moral failure, but rather, a cultural one. In recent times, we've become accustomed to systems prioritizing convenience. From same-day delivery to algorithmic social media feeds, we are encouraged to believe that everything, including progress, should feel immediate and ask little of us. A click, a story repost, a comment - it's a style of engagement that feels gratifying and effortless. But democracy does not work that way, at least not the kind worth sustaining.

As a student advocate, I've seen this disengagement develop in real time. I recall a time when I was canvassing for a U.S. Senate Candidate on a nearby college campus. For hours, my friends and I walked around outside, encouraging students to register and vote in their state election. Most students ignored us. Others said they were already registered. But the phrase that stuck with me was when a student commented, "It doesn't matter." Throughout the election season, I had more opportunities to engage with students on civic life. When having conversations with other people my age, I heard numerous remarks that voting will "not change anything anyway". These experiences were frustrating, but not because the students were wrong to be disillusioned. But, because their disillusionment curdled into their engagement.

It is not that people have lost their passion or their hope, but they've been socialized into thinking that if change isn't immediate, it's not worthwhile; or worse, that it's not working. We view slow change as a productivity failure rather than an inevitable component of long-term advancement. The collective work of democracy, the kind that involves door-knocking, uncomfortable dialogue, or sitting through a three-hour school board meeting, is all dismissed as ineffective when, in fact, it's the only way real change takes root. Instead, we turn to social media graphics and posting from the safety of our curated online communities, failing to participate in the iterative practices that sustain democracies: going out, doing more, and critically reflecting. All of which are not "convenient." A recent study from Tumblr found that while Gen-Z recognizes that we are more technologically connected than a decade ago, two-thirds believe that the promise of social media uniting humanity is broken. Now, social media is not the sole perpetrator of convenience culture; in fact, it is a great tool for disseminating information. But social media isn't reflective of real-world discourse. Oftentimes, on our curated feeds, dissent is rare, and engagement is easy. That's the paradox of convenience culture: it expands access while narrowing our sense of responsibility.

The result is a hollowed-out civic life. Convenience culture has eroded the muscles of democracy, and we are left with more platforms than ever to speak, but fewer habits of listening. We know how to brand ourselves, but we don't know our neighbors. We can go viral for a cause, but struggle to organize a town hall. In moments of crisis, we instinctively search for the "village," but without intentional practice, that village won't be there. As a student at Howard University, I've been fortunate to be a part of a campus culture that actively prioritizes sustained community engagement. Our motto-In Truth and Service-is more than just an aspirational quote; it's a call to action. Students lobby on Capitol Hill, assemble protests both on and off campus, and organize community events. Service is often incorporated into the missions of our student groups, and that matters. Because culture informs action. When service is normalized, so is showing up.

Me and my friends canvassing for the 2024 election.

Democracy is about culture as much as it is about institutions. That culture is built in the spaces we inhabit every day: schools, neighborhoods, and houses of worship. When our democratic institutions are failing, we need to invest in our democratic culture. Failing institutions require reform in policies, but failing culture requires reform in our mindsets.
The truth is that a better democracy starts with better villagers. We must relearn what it means to be a part of one another's lives: to be present, to remain in difficult conversations, to create space, and to be prepared to give more than we receive. That's the only way to ensure that when we need our village in times of crisis, it will still be there.

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Civic Crisis in Times of Convenience by Carina Laventure, National Youth250 Bureau Member This is part of our Letter to America Series, from the Youth250 Bureau and community from Made By Us. Learn ...

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New-York Historical Society, Central Park West, New York, NY

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Made by Us (@historymadebyus) • Instagram reel

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186 likes, 24 comments - historymadebyus on August 13, 2025: “Join Youth250 Bureau Member Alex Vidal at The New York Historical! 🗽Alex dived into the history behind the Red Scare at the Blacklisted: An American Story exhibit and added a wish to the museum’s Wish Wall, where others also shared their hopes for America’s 250th birthday. You can still share your wish for the future at OnOur250th.org!”.

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Jasmine Lewis: A Revelation of Country: Sinners, Cowboy Carter, and The Gospel-Blues of Southern Envisioning

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Jasmine Lewis: A Revelation of Country: Sinners, Cowboy Carter, and The Gospel-Blues of Southern Envisioning

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Where I come from, the past, present, and future often collide and commune with one another; and the sound of words escape mouths and exude into the wind, whirling into melody with ease. A place where the legacy of the land is as sacred as it is wounded - as magical as it is tortured; and I'm sure most of these trees have witnessed centuries of stories about people's wanderings of what it means to be free. I'm from a space that's so gorgeously cosmic in a way that, oftentimes, only those who share it can recognize.

I was born and raised down in the Deep South. And right now, we're witnessing a revelation.

About 6 years ago, right before the turn of the new decade (this era of the Roaring '20s), I held in my hands Zora Neale Hurtston's Their Eyes Were Watching God for the first time. I was fascinated - and shocked - by the way she mended the words on the page. There was such rawness in how she wrote about the weight of dreams and their erosions. Her story sung of how change is infinite and always possible, of how love can be defined and destroyed, and the fact that grief can branch into spiraled stems that swirl towards both darkness and light - and, the part that surprised me the most, she told this story in a way that was so honest, so full, that it didn't even deny our Southern tongue. It was so real. The dance of conversation between the characters reminded me of how my family shares their stories. A language so unapologetic, and so beautifully country! Echoing how my Grandmothers, Uncles, and Aunties speak to me; the music and magnetic rhythm I find nestled in the bend and curve of their words.

At the time, I was 17, preparing for graduation and wondering if certain dreams were even possible. If I could pursue my aspirations, of writing, of teaching, of art and creating without having to sacrifice so much of my identity. Fearing being seen as just some naïvely ambitious little girl from Alabama, I asked myself, "Is it possible? What if they wave me off as 'too country'? Will they see me? Or will they shatter me?" Ms. Hurston's words were an affirmation, as if I was peering into the past and she was nodding at me, like, "Yes, this is real, and it is possible! The proof is in your hands." I had never experienced this form of truth from a book before - paper and ink that mimicked mirrors and reached them out towards me. I saw the call to remember myself, to remember my elders and all that we are. To reclaim my Countryness.

Blues has always been second nature for me. Gospel too. In my family, it ain't a party until that Johnnie Taylor comes on. Spending a Saturday evening shuffling dominoes with my elders; holidays in the hot sun surrounded by rich swells of charcoal smoke and laughter as Latimore pleads "sit yourself down girl and talk to me" from the inside of the speaker. I'd be up early the next morning, feet swinging from the church pews on Sunday, stretching to reach the wooden floors to tap my shoes and sing beside my Godmother RoRo "I wonder if the lighthouse will shine. Shine on me." Or I'd be behind the pulpit where the choir stands, singing with my cousin as we led the congregation to clap and fan to "Down By The Riverside." Shared moments with music always felt like levitation. I was often told by my grandparents, "you not 'sposed to listen to the Blues on Sunday." I had guessed that meant that the two together weren't seen as sanctified; but both of them felt like praise to me. Still, I would sing LaShun Pace and Etta James on the same day with as much power and depth as my 9 year-old vocal cords would allow! A super-imaginative and musical child, I was often told I "make enough noise to tear up the devil."

Looking back, many of those old Hymns we sang sound a lot like the Blues. Despite the tensions between the Blues and the church, they are inextricably connected and always have been. Both embody the art of recall, boldly facing memories of the tribulations of life and its spectrum of emotion. Luminous and Black. It's music of the South and movement(s) of survival, of what has been imagined and sustained. I witnessed the ways both ignited motion, sound, and light in the spirit and bodies of my elders. Grappling with that twang that balances pain, joy, and creation; a truthful cry or wail passed through the breath in heirloom and experience, stretching across and beyond the span of time. I saw their ancestral wisdom, living in spaces that balance the haunted and holy. Holding and keeping histories that are tender, yet calloused. An alchemy of grief, pleasure, and memory into possibility and transformation - forging an emblazoned path to walk in liberation. This here, something I inherited. This is what I like to call, The Gospel-Blues of Southern Envisioning.

Seeing Sinners for the first time, I felt the same way I had sitting in that English classroom, visiting a world that Ms. Zora built. Glittering, entranced, and at-home. The rhythm of the film was beautiful. Possessing the adornments of a love story, a supernatural saga, of conjure and of crucible and all the surrealness of what it meant to be a Black person in the 1930s Jim Crow South. It also gives a glimpse into the multicultural histories of the South with people of Chinese, Choctaw, and Irish heritage being shown on screen. Ryan Coogler crafted a monument with that film. And at the heart of the story's purpose, is connection to the light of a loved one and the reminder that we are never truly alone. That music is an interstellar landline to connect with all that was before us, and all that awaits after us - "music so true, it can pierce the veil between life and death."

A theatrical display that upholds Divination as both a balm and a flame - and it's not too often we get to see Blues, Hoodoo, a Mississippi juke, and vampires all in the span of two-and-a-half hours. Teetering along the lines of sin and salvation, of life and death, it doesn't forget the story of the sharecropper paid in wooden nickels; of how "blues wasn't forced on us like that religion," and how guitar chords can wield a sword to destroy evil. It remembers the ways Southern trees bear "Strange Fruit," and how a hum and groan can also become a hymn. Every bit of this, too, embodies elements of The Gospel-Blues.

Beyoncé's Cowboy Carter is also igniting conversations about music history and genre-bending. It exists as an evocation of being Black and American, and even further, being Black and Country. She sings songs of love, betrayal, weariness, lineage, pride, protection, demise, and rebirth. In her song "YA YA," she exclaims, "Whole lotta red in that white and blue! History can't be erased. Are you looking for a new America?" The lyrics prompt a question of what it means to carry a flag that denies its promises, and what this flag can mean to a community that was captured and forced into servitude. A people compelled to sustain America's claims of power and freedom, despite their own captivity. The visuals that she is showing on the tour further emphasize a critique of what constitutes American Culture. A proclamation of an " Ameriican Requiem." The tour interludes also contain epitomic illustrations of Black American life like Black Cowboys, banjo being played on the steps of a porch, clips of Black Music architects like Linda Martell and Little Richard, and features segments of Ras Baraka's "American Poem" where the opening lines are "I want to hear an American poem. Something American, you know. Some sassy shit, or South Carolina slave shouter, Alabama backwoods church shack call and response. I want to hear an American Poem!"

These two pieces are an artistic masterclass, and a glimmering testimony of how Black Southern elders and ancestors moved mountains, carving entire cultures out of the impossible. Creating spaces for pleasure in the midst of madness (from racial violence, to the extraction and co-opting of culture), and defining liberation on their own terms; honoring the transcendence of Black Southern sound and spirit.

Memory is magic. These days, I'm practicing asking myself and others "How does memory act as a portal for you? What doors does it open, and where does it invite you to travel to?" Reclaiming my Countryness also meant remembering and being immersed in the stories of my elders (who, I must say, are thee most remarkable storytellers I've ever met) and taking a closer look at the place that I call home. Just driving through Alabama, the roads we travel are the same ones that members of civil rights coalitions marched on. Passing through Selma you can cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge , in another town a GPS might guide you down streets named after plantations as you look for your destination. Mobile waters mark the memory of the final arrival of enslaved Africans to America. And we still see blooming fields of cotton scattered across many Bama cities. In this same space, I'm able to visit the home my PawPaw built, walk across the land my great grandmothers used to nurture with their hands -who did the impossible in forging a life for themselves down here. I remember how this state is the birthplace of the Black Panther Party. I'm reminded of my elders that sang and taught the Gospel, how they danced to Country and Blues that led to tunes of Rock & Roll, Hip Hop, and the many subgenres that signify our evolution; how the records they spun now rest on my shelves - and how it all makes me possible.

Time has a funny little way of folding into and beyond itself. It's no coincidence that this movement of Southern culture is resurging now. 200 years since the Underground Railroad. 100 years after the beginnings of the Great Migration and the Harlem Renaissance, when Black people in America sought new directions (artistically and physically) as they left the South, seeking new grounds in northern cities to build their lives. 70 years since the lynching of Emmett Till. 60 years post the demise of Jim Crow, after violent attacks against Black liberation and integration (like Tuscaloosa's Bloody Tuesday ) were followed by the Civil Rights Act of 1964, after Nina Simone wrote "Alabama's got me so upset. Tennessee's made me lose my rest. And everybody knows about Mississippi - goddamn!"

Throughout our Country's history, every attack on liberty has been met with a collective battlecry to be armed with care, imagination, and an amplified voice that screams for justice. In these times of chaos, art offers a compass. I can see the arrow pointing South. From Sinners to Cowboy Carter, Zora Neale Hurston to Margaret Walker, from Little Richard to LaShun Pace, Sun Ra to Solange. The art that emerges gives a testament to the times of then, now, and every evolution of tomorrow. Where we are feels even deeper than a reclamation, this is a grand return. A Revelation of Country. A beckoning to remember, and to step forward into the Maroons of Southern Soil.
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A Revelation of Country: Sinners, Cowboy Carter, and The Gospel-Blues of Southern Envisioning

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Where I come from, the past, present, and future often collide and commune with one another; and the sound of words escape mouths and exude into the wind, whirling into melody with ease.

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A.J. Schumann: Workers, Democracy, and Hope | Our Great Experiment #1

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by Sara Abdulla, Youth250

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From Avoidance to Abundance: Rethinking Activism

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By Sara Abdulla, National Youth250 Bureau Member

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Join Constitution Day with Youth250 Bureau Member Shayna Canty

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Join us for a dynamic talk with Shayna Canty, a nonprofit communications specialist and national Youth250 advisor for America's 250th anniversary.

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Shayna Canty of Monroe County Meals on Wheels — Why NEPA? | NEPA Community

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Meet Shayna Canty—Monroe County native, civic leader and Meals on Wheels communicator—who’s championing community service and proudly representing NEPA through her work and national advocacy roles.

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Follow @Lexington250 for the ultimate Gen Z x Revolutionary War crossover

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Lexington250 on Instagram: "It’s Levi Ekstrom! He’s a member of @historymadebyus Youth250 bureau, which is dedicated to making the 250th a memorable experience for our nation’s youth. #lexington250reelcountdown #lexingtonma #audrelorde"

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35 likes, 5 comments - lexington250 on April 7, 2025: "It’s Levi Ekstrom! He’s a member of @historymadebyus Youth250 bureau, which is dedicated to making the 250th a memorable experience for our nation’s youth. #lexington250reelcountdown #lexingtonma #audrelorde". 

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Upload a photo, video or link!

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KaRa Lyn Thrasher and Adam Tillery, Youth250 Bureau Members, at the Charles Wright Museum of African American History

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Rhode Island 250th Commission Features Youth Bureau Member DeShawn Parrish

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Lilacia Park, South Park Avenue, Lombard, IL

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Kayla Pilgrim, Youth250 Bureau Member, on National Historic Marker Day

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Smithsonian Workshop 2024

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"What does Gen Z Want from the U.S. 250th?" for Mars Wrigley, 2024

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Youth250: The Next Generation Reimagining America’s 250-Year Story

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Youth250: The Next Generation Reimagining America’s 250-Year Story

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Announcing Youth250: The Next Generation Reimagining America’s 250-Year Story

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Apply by Nov. 9 for the first-ever Youth250 Bureau

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"For the U.S. 250th, at first I was like “meh…” but now I feel a little spark, a catalyst to make it something a bit more impactful, not just about “history” but about the things we’ve experienced and how we can improve upon them."

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The students of Spark250

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Intergenerational conversations at Conner Prairie, August 2024

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The First Step To A Better Future? Having Difficult Conversations About The Past

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The First Step To A Better Future? Having Difficult Conversations About The Past

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in The Blavity

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The First Step To A Better Future? Having Difficult Conversations About The Past - Blavity

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How do we end the war on American liberty? With a broad and accurate grasp on the origin of our country’s issues, and the courage to start difficult conversations.

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by Justice Brown

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I've never been one for confrontation, but as I sat alone in my college dorm a thousand miles away from home, with an unbearable tightness overcoming my chest, and my lungs feeling as if they could no longer support me, I knew I was ready for change.

On the last page of my Alabama absentee ballot were the words "Signature of Witness." This was my first time voting, and instead of feeling like a proud and liberated citizen, I felt confused and disgusted. What do you mean someone has to watch me vote, and why didn't anyone tell me?

I was seeing firsthand that voting, a symbol of rights and freedom, turned out to be riddled with restrictions and barriers that ranged from requiring a witness to vote to long voting lines to the spontaneous relocation of polling sites. This lack of transparency reminded me of voting barriers from before the 1965 Voting Rights Act - like having to pay a fee or pass a test -- and fed my growing disillusionment with America. I felt ready to take to the streets and scream. Maybe then my voice would be heard.

But my grievances didn't begin with this voting experience nor did they end with it.

A few months before, police brutality became so normalized that the words "I can't breathe" seemed to perfectly summarize the suffocatingly precarious nature of being Black in America. Soon after that, the January 6th insurrection made our democracy feel like a scam. Why were the Proud Boys told to "fight like hell" by the President while others were brandished as "thugs" for advocating for Black lives?

So, a few months later when my parents mentioned watching fireworks for the 4th of July, I apathetically replied: "Eh...I'm okay."

The thought of celebrating a country in which a fraction of its citizens enjoyed all of its freedoms felt sickening. I had the ick. More than that: it was difficult for me to love a country whose civic and social systems made it clear that it didn't love me.

I didn't want to patriotically watch fireworks. I wanted to create change.

But how? How could I possibly change centuries of exclusion? For almost 250 years, ever since the signing of the Declaration of Independence, people have had to fight for access to rights written in our founding documents. This blueprint of "inalienable rights" for some and not others was established hundreds of years before that, when early colonizers excluded, exploited and dehumanized Black and Brown people.

But just as history tells us that our country's structures are old and established, it also tells us that they are man-made and thus disruptable. Access to quality education, housing, and voting were all dreams only a few could live as a reality until people came together to march through the streets of Washington, Birmingham, and Atlanta; until people refused to give up their seat or change their appearance for the comfort of others; until they stood in the face of violence - symbolic and physical - and declared "try me." While we're still building a nation that more clearly reflects the experiences and dreams of all of its people, our history reminds me that change is possible, especially with a little confrontation.

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Does the Word 'Patriotism' Give You the Ick?

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It's hard to celebrate a country in which many citizens are deprived of their rights and freedoms. But we can redefine what patriotism means to us.

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Gen Z vs. the Gerontocracy: Reclaiming America's Future | SXSW 2025 Panel

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Gen Z vs. the Gerontocracy: Reclaiming America's Future | SXSW 2025 Panel

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Gen Z vs. the Gerontocracy: Reclaiming America's Future | SXSW 2025 Panel

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What best describes your view of America's 250th birthday?

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17-year-old student wins Arizona’s America250 logo contest

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17-year-old student wins Arizona’s America250 logo contest

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17-year-old student wins Arizona’s America250 logo contest

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Pinnacle High School senior Riley Hammett won Arizona’s America250 logo contest.

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"Today we imagined the future in 2076, at America’s 300th anniversary. And I realized, how could people in 1776 possibly envision where we would be today? We have even more options and information and power today… what are we going to do with it?"

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Give Gen Z the Reins to Commemorate America's 250th

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Give Gen Z the Reins to Commemorate America's 250th

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by Cameron Katz

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Note: This essay is part of CIRCLE's 2024 Youth Expertise Series, which gives young leaders the opportunity to share their perspectives and experiences on issues and dynamics shaping young people's engagement in civic life. About the author: Cameron Katz - Cameron Katz (she/her, 24, Georgia) is a Community Engagement Manager at Made by Us, a collaboration of 200+ history museums and historic sites-from the Smithsonian to local organizations-joining forces to ignite and inform Gen Z civic participation. Cameron is interested in bringing history to the current conversation and inspiring optimism in young people across the political spectrum. In addition to her critical work bridging museums and civic engagement, Cameron is also a contributor to Teen Vogue and she is part of CIRCLE's Young Leaders Learning Community.
According to a recent CIRCLE study, 57% of people between the ages of 18 to 34 said they were "extremely likely to vote" in the 2024 presidential election, with an additional 15% saying they were "fairly likely to vote." Together, that means that nearly three-quarters of young Americans are interested in engaging with civic life. Yet many of them still feel disillusioned with our democracy. Compare the high intention to vote with the dismal 16% of Gen Zers who are proud to live in the United States. As Gen Z steps into adulthood, their view of the future is grim: more than half of 18-29-year-olds say that the American Dream "was once possible" but isn't anymore.

Although Gen Z feels discontent with the state of our country, their intention to participate in civic life is a valuable signal: not all hope is lost. In fact, that discontent is fueling Gen Z's desire to make their voices heard at the polls and beyond. Despite the narrative that often frames young people as apathetic, Gen Z is engaged and still believes in some of the building blocks of our democracy. Why would they show up at the polls if there wasn't some optimism that our country could change?

This hopeful, engaged attitude-even if motivated by dissatisfaction with the now-is certainly patriotic, but Gen Z wouldn't describe it that way. According to the PACE Civic Language Perceptions Project, Gen Z respondents had the most negative perception of the word "patriotism" compared to any other civic term, including "bipartisan," "American," and "liberty." Additionally, Gen Z's unfavorable view of the term "patriotism" was nearly double that of other generations. But shouldn't passion for building a better country for everyone be considered "patriotism"? By that definition, surely Gen Z is patriotic, even if that term might give them the ick now.

There is a crucial moment coming in 2026 that could redefine patriotism for this generation: the 250th anniversary of the United States' founding. How we choose to mark this anniversary really matters. As institutions across the country begin plans to commemorate the 250th, some are taking the predictable route: hot dogs, fireworks, and 1776.

For Gen Z, this stereotypically patriotic approach most likely isn't going to cut it. The 250th presents an opportunity for unity, but also to explore the gray area of our nation's history. Where have we achieved our country's founding ideals? Where have we fallen short? How can we celebrate all of the progress that has been made over the last 250 years and reckon with the work that still remains to be done? This commemoration can be as much about the past as it is about the future, and young people need to be at the helm of the conversation.

History shows us that frustrated, fed-up young people have always led the way. When the Declaration of Independence was signed, Thomas Jefferson was only 33, James Madison was 25, and Alexander Hamilton was 21. James Monroe, who would later become president, was still a teenager, at age 18. The trend isn't relegated to revolutionary America either. In 1845, 27-year-old Frederick Douglass wrote the groundbreaking Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. In 1909, 23-year-old Clara Lemlich Shavelson led a labor protest of 20,000 people in New York City. In 1955, 26-year-old Martin Luther King Jr. steered the Montgomery Bus Boycott. In 1971, 26-year-old Marsha P. Johnson and 20-year-old Sylvia Rivera started the Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR), a pioneering organization to support trans youth and organizing.

Time and time again in our history, young people have felt empowered to address their points of dissatisfaction in our country. We face challenging times now, with political polarization, financial distress, and extreme distrust in our institutions. But the young people in history who forged change were facing challenging times too and their hope for a better future is what drove change. That's patriotism if you ask me.

Although young people have historically been the visionaries for the future of the United States, they are missing from current conversations about how we think about our country and where we're going next, starting with this very anniversary. The 250th can change that. The Youth250 program by Made By Us is one example of a project that brings deeper Gen Z participation to this moment, providing an opportunity to envision the next 250 years of our country.

Youth250 brings together hundreds of Gen Z participants and institutional leaders from 400+ history museums to imagine a future we can all be proud of, with youth input at the center of it all. Using data from intergenerational workshops held in Atlanta, GA, Fishers, IN, Salt Lake City, UT, and Philadelphia, PA, Youth250 will design a toolkit for museums, organizations, and institutions to create meaningful programming. Additionally, organizations will have access to the Youth250 Bureau, a group of 100+ trained Gen Z advisors who will work directly with institutions to infuse youth voice into 250th planning. The Bureau will launch this winter.

Perhaps by amplifying Gen Z voices and leadership, this generation can reclaim patriotism, not only as a celebration of who we are but also as a reckoning with all that we can become.

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Youth Expertise - Give Gen Z the Reins to Commemorate America's 250th Anniversary

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Note: This essay is part of CIRCLE's 2024 Youth Expertise Series, which gives young leaders the opportunity to share their perspectives and experiences on issues and dynamics shaping young people's engagement in civic life.